Jane Corry 20 страница

But as Carla allowed herself to be laid down on the soft sitting-room carpet, she couldn’t help thinking how much she’d love to have a famous artist for a boyfriend. A place of her own. Her own money. (She would of course share this with Mamma. ) A standing which would impress even the neighbours at home, who would have to be kind to Mamma now, especially as Ed’s work was soon to be exhibited in Rome.

After that, they made love whenever and wherever they could. Hotels were best, Ed said. More private.

Yet he seemed to get more satisfaction than she. Ed was not the lover Carla had imagined he would be. Naturally, she’d had some experience. At university, finally free from Nonno’s rules, she would flirt with boys who were likely to take her to dinner. Sometimes she would let it go further. A new dress perhaps in return for a weekend in Sorrento. Always, she took precautions. Not just with her body but her mind. ‘I wish to concentrate on my studies – not fall in love, ’ she had told them all. But the truth was that she didn’t want to get into trouble like Mamma had done. It was the financial stability of marriage she wanted. Not the role of a mistress.

And yet here she was, being just that.

‘I’m going to leave Lily, ’ Ed always promised. ‘I simply need the right time to tell her. This is more for me than just sex. ’

I can help with that, Carla told herself.

One day, a few weeks after they’d started to sleep together, Carla made a call from the hotel room to the twenty-four-hour hotline of a celebrity gossip magazine while Ed was in the shower. The woman at the other end was very interested in what she had to say. Carla spoke quickly. Then she put down the phone, without giving her name.

And shortly after that, Lily found them.

It was strange. Despite everything coming together, Carla didn’t feel the expected satisfaction of revenge.

Instead, she felt cheap. Dirty.

Lily’s face was white under the street lamp. Her glaring eyes belonged to a wild animal. Carla was scared. Ed saw that. He put his arm around her protectively, even though she could feel his body shaking too. ‘We love each other, ’ he kept saying to Lily. ‘We want to be with each other for ever. ’

‘We couldn’t help it, ’ Carla stammered.

Lily snarled. Yes! Snarled. ‘Of course you could. ’ Then she began to weep, which was worse. ‘I’ve helped you so much. Is this how you repay me? ’

‘Repay? ’ Carla’s voice rose into the night air and a passer-by turned to look. ‘You were the one who should have repaid me. I heard you in Devon telling Ed that you ignored my letters from Italy. ’

‘I -’

‘Don’t deny it. Don’t try any of those lawyer lies on me, because I know them all myself. ’ She was sweating now with indignation. ‘If you hadn’t told Larry to leave my mother alone, we would have been all right. ’

Lily’s laugh was brittle. ‘Is that what you really think, you silly little girl? ’

‘I’m not -’

‘Listen to me. ’

For a minute, it looked as though Lily was going to grab her by the neck. ‘If Tony could deceive his wife, don’t you think he could have deceived you and your mother as well? ’

Carla had a flashback to the woman in the car with the bright lipstick.

‘I did you both a favour. Trust me. Just like you’ve done me a favour – both of you. ’ Then she swung round to face Ed. ‘If it hadn’t been for Tom, I’d have left you years ago. Take this child, ’ she gesticulated towards Carla, ‘and go. ’

Then she swivelled round to face Carla again. ‘You’ll soon find out what he’s like. And if you think you’re going to get any money out of this, you’re mistaken. ’

Ed’s hand tightened on hers. They were as strong as the waves of fear that were tightening her chest. ‘I’ve heard enough of this. Come on, Carla. We’re going. ’

‘No. ’ Lily’s voice was stronger than she had ever heard it. ‘I’m the one who’s going. Do you think I really want to go back to that house, knowing that you two have probably been at it like rabbits when I’ve been working? Besides, it will only have to be sold now anyway. Here. ’ She tossed the keys at Carla. ‘Take my set too. I’ll be in touch about my things. Just get out of my sight. Both of you. ’

Hang on, Carla wanted to say. This isn’t how I thought it would be. But Ed had gripped her hand so tightly that it almost hurt. Then he hailed a taxi and they went home. ‘Where will Lily go? ’ she asked as they opened the front door to be greeted by Lily’s belongings everywhere: her white coat hanging on the hook in the hall; her heels neatly positioned by the door.

‘She’ll be all right, ’ said Ed, drawing her to him. ‘She’s tougher than she looks. Look how she had us followed. ’

‘Really? ’ Carla tried to sound innocent.

‘How else do you think she found us? ’

But Carla could not sleep for worrying. Supposing Lily did something stupid like jumping off a bridge, like some poor man had done only a week ago? What do you care? Mamma might have said. Yet for some reason, she did. For the first time, Carla wondered if Lily had been right when she said she’d done them a favour in pushing Larry away. Then there had been that final throwaway line. If you think you’re going to get any money out of this, you’re mistaken.

All night, Carla tossed and turned. When she woke in the morning, to find Ed’s head on her chest like a child in need of comfort, Carla felt another flash of misgiving. Then he woke, smiled and stretched out in the wide bed as the sun streamed in through the cream shutters.

‘Isn’t this amazing? ’ he said, tracing her breast with his forefinger. ‘We were meant for each other. And now we’ll be together for ever. ’

Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? But all she could think of were those grey hairs on his chest, that little bald spot in the middle of his hair, and the tears on Lily’s face from the night before.

The headlines came swiftly:

PAINTER LEAVES WIFE FOR SEXY ITALIAN SITTER

ARTIST BLOTS CANVAS FOR ITALIAN GIRL GROWN UP

‘I’m definitely keeping the house, ’ Ed told her a few days later. ‘I’m going to borrow some money so I can buy Lily out. She’s going to leave London and set up a practice in Devon near Tom. It’s the best thing for everyone. ’

‘But will we have enough to live on? ’

He held her in his arms. ‘Don’t worry about that. ’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m broke, Ed. ’

‘Don’t worry. ’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘I will look after you now. ’

‘But I don’t have any cash. ’

Then he reached into his back pocket and peeled off some notes. ‘Is that enough? ’

Her heart filled with relief. ‘Thank you. ’

Of course, she banked most of it and sent a transfer straight to Mamma.

For a few weeks, Carla’s doubts began to fade. There was something rather flattering about living with a famous painter. They went to nice restaurants. Waiters bobbed obsequiously. They were the couple of the moment. Everyone knew them.

She didn’t have to worry about paying rent or bills. Edward – she liked to give him his full name at times – bought her lovely clothes. So Lily had been lying about the money! She even managed to stay working in the London office – they could hardly sack her, it would be against the law. And thankfully Lily was no longer there.

Some people of course were cool to begin with. ‘Memories are short, ’ Ed reassured her. And he was right. Within a couple of months or so, the coldness began to thaw, especially when one of the partners left his wife for his secretary and everyone had something else to talk about.

As for Ed, he couldn’t have been more attentive. Sometimes too much so. One day, in the post, she received a handwritten note in ink with beautiful sloping writing from Rupert.

Glad to see you are doing so well.

‘Who is that from? ’ asked Ed, reading the note over her shoulder.

‘Just a friend from law school. ’

‘That kid who came here? ’

Uncomfortable memories of Ed finding her and Rupert in the house came back to her.

‘Yes. ’

Ed said nothing. But later that night when she put something in the bin, Carla found Rupert’s note torn into tiny bits. ‘Why did you do that? ’ she asked him. But instead of replying, he kissed her deeply, and then began to make love to her with a passion that he had not shown for some time.

The shredded note was worth it, Carla told herself, as she lay gasping on the sheets. It was like it had been at the beginning, when Ed was still just enough out of her grasp for him to be exciting. And she suspected he felt the same.

There was nothing like unavailability for attraction. For the first time in ages, she thought of that pencil case. The one she’d stolen from another child. How she had wanted it! But then, when she’d had it, the craze had turned to something else instead. What was wrong with her, she wondered as she felt her way to the bathroom in the dark so as not to disturb Ed, that she always needed something more?

45 Lily

November 2014

‘I can’t eat it now. ’ Tom glares at me with fury in his eyes. ‘You’ve moved the cutlery. Look! ’

He points angrily at the fork which I have edged a couple of inches to the left to make room for an extra setting. I’ve been looking after Tom for long enough now to remember not to do that, but every now and then something slips and I forget. The results can be spectacular. Like now.

CRASH.

Mum and I jump, grabbing each other’s arms. It’s not just the cutlery which has flown off the table. It’s the plate next to it and a rather nice crystal wine glass which belonged to a wedding-gift set from all those years ago.

After Ed and I split and began dividing our possessions (which was nothing compared with the division in my own heart), I couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was that wedding presents could long outlast the marriage itself.

To my horror, I feel tears pricking my eyes. Tears which I usually ban on the grounds that they do no good. Besides, who wants an unfaithful husband? Good-quality wine glasses are far more useful.

‘Why did you do that? ’ I shout, ignoring the warning look in Mum’s eyes. Don’t question Tom. Definitely don’t argue with him. You won’t win. During the divorce – a ‘quickie’, which had come through with indecent haste – Ed had claimed it was ‘useless’ arguing with a lawyer. People like me, apparently, never listen to others; they always have their own answers at the ready.

Maybe that’s where Tom gets it from. His ability to see his own point of view and no one else’s.

‘You touched my knife, ’ he states factually, squinting through his new thick-framed black glasses. ‘I’ve told you before. I don’t like that. ’

Bending down, I sweep up the pieces of broken glass. ‘You’re acting like a three-year-old, ’ I mutter.

‘Shh, ’ soothes Mum.

Normally I don’t make a fuss. Since coming back to look after Tom, I decided it was the best way. But every now and then, I snap. Something usually acts as a trigger. Today I suspect it’s the extra place setting at the table. A reminder of the life that ended on the night I saw Ed and Carla kissing outside the hotel off the Strand. Even now, I shudder if someone casually mentions the word ‘hotel’. It’s like a trigger point, shooting me back, churning my guts, making me retch like I did back then on to the pavement, in a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.

Strangely, after those first few raw moments, there was no anger. There still isn’t. It would be easier if there were. Mum says it’s because I still haven’t worked through my feelings yet. Maybe she’s right. But if so, when am I going to? It’s been months now since Ed and I split. Yet it still feels as raw as if it had happened yesterday.

I had spent the night at a professional organization which I belong to (the University Women’s Club, which had, by chance, a bedroom available) and called in sick the next day. There was no way I could face Carla, and I didn’t put it past her to prance into the office as though nothing had happened.

Then my mobile had rung.

Ed. Ed?

‘We need to talk, ’ he said. Kindly. Without the defensive tone of the previous night. Was it because he was alone?

‘Is Carla there? ’

‘No. ’

So he could talk! Freely. Hope ballooned up into my throat. Ed wanted me back. Of course he did! We had a child together. A child who wasn’t like most other children. Perhaps now, in the sobering light of day, Ed realized we needed to stick together for Tom’s sake.

I didn’t have my spare set of keys on me, it struck me, as I reached the door. Instead, I had to ring the bell, feeling like a stranger on my own doorstep. Ed greeted me with a glass of whisky in his hand. It wasn’t even ten o’clock.

I launched straight in. ‘Look, I’m hurt about Carla. But I’m prepared to forgive you for Tom’s sake. Can’t we start again? ’

Then, rather desperately, I added, ‘We’ve done it before. ’

Ed patted my hand as though I was a little girl. ‘Come on, Lily. It’s understandable that you’re scared. ’ As he spoke, there was a gleam in his eye. He looked like a kid himself, one who had been caught with his hand in the sweet jar but didn’t care. He was on a high, no doubt helped by the drink. Something I’d seen time and time again during our marriage. Before long it would be followed by a plunge of mood.

You see? I know him far better than Carla. How will she cope?

‘You’re young enough to start again, Lily. You make a great deal more money than me and…’

‘How can you talk about money! ’ I stood up and strode into the kitchen towards one of his paintings. It was a picture of the hotel we stayed at during our honeymoon. A picture he’d once helped me to copy, to show how colours could be mixed to achieve that subtle combination of blue merging into green. I can still remember his arm guiding mine, his touch thrilling mine. ‘Not bad, ’ he had said, admiring my efforts. And to show willing, he had actually put it on the wall. Next to his.

‘We need to talk about the practicalities, ’ he continued. ‘I suggest that I keep the house and buy you out. ’

‘How? ’

Ed was always hopeless when it came to money.

‘I’ve got an exhibition coming up. Remember? You could find somewhere in town and then we can each take it in turns to go down to Devon and visit Tom at weekends…’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? ’ I said, appalled. ‘You and that Italian bitch. ’

Ed’s face darkened. ‘Don’t call her that. You haven’t shown me any affection for years. All you care about is your work. ’

That wasn’t fair. It’s true that I was exhausted at night after work, but isn’t everyone? And when I had made overtures on Sunday mornings, Ed always rolled away, declaring his back was stiff or that we would wake Carla, on the other side of the wall. How could I have been so stupid?

Once more, memories of a younger Carla came back to me. The little girl who had asked me to lie for her about that pencil case. The child whose mother was really seeing ‘Larry’ instead of working.

Like mother, like daughter.

‘What are you doing? ’ yelled Ed.

I hardly knew myself. Later, I vaguely recall running at the kitchen wall, towards the pair of paintings of our honeymoon hotel. Picking up his, I threw it on the floor. Jumped on it. Then, pushing my way past Ed, I flew out of the house, weeping my way along the street.

The following day, I received a letter – hand-delivered at work – starting divorce proceedings on the grounds of my ‘unreasonable behaviour’.

But there’s something else. Something I’m only now allowing myself to think. If I’m honest, Ed and I weren’t right for ages. But I couldn’t leave him because of Tom. Is it possible that, unintentionally, I had ignored the signs of affection between our lodger and my husband? Had I, unconsciously, wanted something to happen between them to give me a justified get-out card from my marriage?

So maybe the ‘unreasonable’ wasn’t so unreasonable after all.

46 Carla

Every other weekend, for some months now, Carla and Ed had gone down to Devon to see Tom. At first she had been nervous. What if the boy refused to talk to her? She genuinely felt something for him: an understanding between two people who had never fitted in. But when Ed had picked him up from the house – they’d decided it was better if she stayed in the car while he did this – he had come running up to her all gangly-legged and toothy with excitement. ‘Carla, ’ he had said, nodding. ‘You are here. ’

She wouldn’t allow herself to think of Lily, who must be waiting inside. A mother forced to give up her son to another woman for the day. Lily deserved it, Carla told herself. She had neglected Tom so that she could follow her career. She had neglected her husband too. It was the only way Carla could cope with that little nagging voice in her head. The voice that had been reflected in the letter from her mother.

‘I hope you know what you are doing, my sweet, ’ her mother had written. ‘Looking back, I regret the pain I caused Larry’s wife. Be very careful. ’

And then, one Saturday morning when she and Ed had been lying in bed, came the note through the door. Luckily she had got there before him.

YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS.

That was all.

Clearly it referred to breaking up Ed and Lily’s marriage.

The writing was in spidery capital letters. Who had sent it? Lily? Yet somehow Carla knew it wasn’t her style. Someone at work then? Even though most were friendlier now, there were still some who talked about their former colleague with affection. How she’d set up a new branch (with flexible hours apparently), focusing on cases where parents had children with special needs. How ‘she deserved to do well’. This last bit had been said by Lily’s old secretary with a meaningful look towards Carla.

Was it possible one of them had sent the note? Once more, she read it to herself.

YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS.

Part of Carla wanted to show Ed so he could banish her fears. Tell her it was all right. But what if it stirred his conscience? Made him feel guiltier than he did already? There were times when she often found him looking at pictures of Tom with a wistful gaze. And he was always in a difficult mood after their weekend visits. Did he regret leaving his son for her, Carla? Was it possible that he might leave her and return to Lily?

Such humiliation! She couldn’t end up like Mamma.

So instead of telling Ed about the note, she ripped it into little pieces. And just to make sure he didn’t find it like he’d found Rupert’s, she dropped the pieces of paper into the rubbish bin down the street.

For a few weeks after that, she felt nervous, looking over her shoulder every time she went to the office, out-staring the secretary. But nothing happened.

At home, Ed’s infatuation with her made him clinging and controlling. ‘Where have you been? ’ he demanded one night when she came back late after sorting out an urgent land contract. ‘I tried to ring you but there was no answer. ’

‘I had it switched off so I could concentrate. ’

But when she came out of the shower that night, she found him stuffing her mobile quickly back into her bag as if he’d been checking it.

‘I’m not hiding anything from you, ’ she said, annoyed.

‘Of course you’re not, darling. ’ He draped an arm around her. ‘I just thought I heard it hum. Look, you’ve got a text. ’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Your work again. ’

That stifling feeling increased.

Then an important client cancelled a commission for a portrait of his wife. ‘Apparently she disapproves of the press publicity over us, ’ said Ed, shrugging. ‘Never mind. Commissions come and go. The important thing is that I’ve got you. You know, I never felt I really had Lily. She was always thinking of Daniel or Tom or her career. ’

Meanwhile, bottles of wine were disappearing from the cellar at an alarming rate. ‘I took them into the gallery, ’ said Ed when she questioned him about it. But later in the week, she found the bottles at the bottom of the recycling bin at the back of the house.

Carla, still on a high from having briefed a barrister about a case that looked as though it was almost in the bag, began to feel a stirring of frustration. Was this how Lily had felt?

Then, one Sunday when Ed was out sketching (again), she did a great tidy-up, partly to expunge Lily’s lingering presence in the house. Ed’s study was sacrosanct: no one went into it. But when she peered inside, she could see the desk was overflowing with bits of paper. Cobwebs fluttered in the corners. Dirty mugs were on every surface. Just a quick bit of rearranging wouldn’t go amiss.

Underneath the half-finished sketches, she found a pile of unopened post.

Some had ‘Urgent’ stamped on the envelope. Others, ‘Open Immediately’.

So she did.

Aghast, Carla sank on to Ed’s chair. He owed thousands on his credit card. The mortgage hadn’t been paid for two months. There was a letter giving them three more months, ‘following your request’.

But after that, the money would have to be paid.

‘It will be all right, ’ Ed said when she confronted him as soon as he got back. ‘It’s just a question of cash flow. I’ve got the new exhibition coming up. My agent is very optimistic. I’ll sell more than enough to keep us going. ’

Then he looked at her disappointedly as though she’d been in the wrong. ‘Please don’t go into my study again. It’s not as though I’ve got anything to hide. ’

The next day, she found the letters had gone.

The exhibition opening almost distracted Carla from the doubts that were building up. It was such fun to be photographed on Ed’s arm! He looked so handsome dressed in his tuxedo. ‘Shall I refer to you as Mr Macdonald’s companion? ’ asked one of the journalists.

Ed, hovering at her shoulder, had stepped in. ‘Put fianc& #233; e, would you? ’

Carla started. They hadn’t even discussed marriage! But Ed was speaking as though it had all been arranged.

‘Why did you say that? ’ she asked as they walked home.

Ed’s handgrip tightened. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. ’

‘I am. ’

But inside, she really wasn’t sure. Instead, Carla thought back to the night when he’d first made love to her. She’d adored his impulsiveness then. But now it felt as though she was being treated like the child she’d been when Ed had first known her. He was making all the decisions. Huge ones which she should have a say in too. Did she really want to get married? It no longer seemed so important.

The following night, when she was working late at the office, Ed rang. ‘Have you seen the Telegraph? ’ he demanded tersely.

Carla felt a quickening of apprehension. ‘No. ’

‘Then get one. ’

There was a copy in reception for clients. Swiftly Carla skimmed through until she reached the arts pages. Dear Lord.

NEW EXHIBITION DISAPPOINTS

ART LOVERS

Artist Edward Macdonald fails to live up to expectations…

‘Sorry, ’ she said to one of the partners. ‘I’ve got to leave. ’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve finished the briefing? ’

‘Not quite. But I’ve got an emergency. ’

‘We’ll have another if you don’t have everything ready first thing in the morning. ’

‘I will. ’

When she got home, Ed was slumped on the sofa.

‘It will be all right, ’ she said, bending down to kiss him on the forehead.

‘Will it? We’ll have to sell the gallery. I just can’t afford to keep it going any more. ’

Never had she seen a man cry before.

‘I’m sure…’

Then his arms opened and he pulled her towards him. His breath stank of whisky and his mouth was wet as he pushed her down on the sofa. ‘Don’t, Ed, don’t. It’s not safe. ’ But he continued to kiss her, and it seemed easier to let him than carry on protesting.

The following week, she received a letter from Mamma.

Cara mia,

You will not believe what has happened! Larry has left me a little money. I have only just found out – his widow fought against it but the judge ruled I should have it. My Larry changed his will at the end, apparently. It shows what a good man he was, don’t you think? …

So her visit had achieved something after all.

Yet Carla felt physically sick. Yes, her mother would be financially secure now, judging from the amount mentioned. No wonder the widow had challenged it. But where did that leave her, Carla? Had she put herself into this awful position with Ed for nothing?

Perhaps it was time to get out.

47 Lily

February 2015

‘He’s nearly here, he’s nearly here! ’

Tom is pacing up and down, patting his hands on his knees as if playing the drum. This is another habit associated with his condition. The action, according to the experts, soothes the person concerned. Even if it plays havoc with everyone else’s nerves.

‘There’s his car, Mum. There’s his car! ’

Ross always has this effect on him. If there was one thing that Ed and I got right, I tell myself, it was choosing his friend as godfather.

Ross was gratifyingly shocked when Ed walked out on me for Carla and then demanded the house. ‘As for “unreasonable behaviour”, that’s ridiculous, ’ he said when I’d gone round the following day, my face a mess, barely able to stop crying.

I’d shrugged, looking round at Ross’s place. The washing-machine door was off, lying on the side of the kitchen counter as if waiting for someone to call the repair man. The kitchen sink was stacked with several days’ worth of crockery and there was a pile of newspapers on the floor by the bin. Half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat on the side. Yet Ross himself was always impeccably turned out in a sharp suit and dapper tie. It occurred to me then, as it occurs to me frequently, that one never really knows a person properly. Especially ourselves. Every human is a melting pot of contradictions.

‘What grounds does he cite for this unreasonable behaviour? ’ continued Ross.

‘Always working late. Not taking holidays. That sort of thing. ’ I gave a short laugh. ‘Unreasonable behaviour can mean anything nowadays. I had a client who got a divorce because her husband dug up her vegetable garden without asking her permission first. ’

My fingers gripped the side of Ross’s cream worktop. Imagine if Ed’s lawyers knew the truth… No, I tell myself. Don’t go there.

‘What are you going to do? ’ asked Ross. He was coming closer now. For a minute, I thought he might be going to give me a cuddle. Until then, we’d only exchanged brief ‘kiss greetings’ on the cheek. It felt odd. So I stepped backwards.

‘I don’t know. ’ All I could think of was the geometric pattern on the terracotta floor. Since last night, small details seemed big. Maybe it was the mind’s way of coping.

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